


ONE OF THESE NIGHTS! (ramking oneshot)

by ramkingvevo



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Almost Official Love, Boys In Love, Boys Love - Freeform, Cuddling, Fanfic, Fanfiction, Fiction, Gay, Homosexuality, King - Freeform, LGBT Fanfiction, M/M, Male Homosexuality, MxM - Freeform, My Engineer - Freeform, Overthinking, RamKing - Freeform, Silent Love, TV Fiction, TV Series, Thai BL, Thai Boys Love Fanfiction, Thai Boys Love Series, Thai Series, bxb - Freeform, gay fanfiction, lgbt fiction, ram - Freeform, thai drama - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramkingvevo/pseuds/ramkingvevo
Summary: ❝ EVEN WITHOUT A TOUCH, I AM MESMERIZED BY YOU. . . ❞King thinks everything over, lays next to Ram, reflects on their shared time together, and decides he's right at the verge of calling this love all in the same night.
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	ONE OF THESE NIGHTS! (ramking oneshot)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristco/gifts).



> ― i luv you fern! <3

King had watched as day bled into dusk, —the world outside of his condo, the safe haven he'd created for himself and his plants, becoming dimmer as the bright light bulb in the sky grew leaden. He watched, silently, as brilliant shades of tangerine and dusty rose were swallowed by the maw of night, replaced by an inky expanse of speckled stars and the milky glow of the humble moon. In the innocuous background of King's one man show, the faint sound of running water streaming down from a shower spicket could be heard, faintly so, which was the only audible evidence of Ram's existence alongside the elder male. That, and the careless pitter-patter of sharpened keratin on hardwood floors, typically followed by a few moments of still water being disturbed by the lapping of a thin, slobbery tongue that King had no interest in ever being kissed on the cheek by in the way Ram so gleefully did.

He wasn't a fan of dogs in the same manner that he wasn't a fan of pitch black nights, but even then, he'd allowed them to stay because of the kindness they evoked from inside of their owner. King, perceptive as he was when it came to the matter's of his tattooed junior, noted the way that Ram's eyes softened when either of the canines would rest the flat of their chin against his knee and whimper in the back of their throat, —begging for his attention in a way that King was almost _tempted_ to try out for himself. . . Maybe then Ram would turn to look at him with his pupils blown once more, the same way they had in the greenhouse a few months prior when King had tucked a flower behind Ram's ear with a subtle touch and kind words. The world had stopped for them, right on its steady axis, breaking all the rules of the universe just for the two of them in the way that Ram had broken his rules for King time and time again.

He'd been so certain that he didn't need anyone else. . . His small circle of close friends was enough (more than that, actually, as they could be handfuls.) Ram was keen on his studies, set on learning during his time at university, rather than going out of his way to meet a million new people that wouldn't think twice of him in ten years time. Frankly, Ram was fine with existing under the notion that everyone around him hadn't the slightest clue who he even was for the vast majority of the time. It was almost comforting to believe that everyone was feeding on preconceived notions about him, —unable to break the traits of a personality they'd never experienced down into boxes of "positive" or "negative." The unknown oftentimes scared Ram, but under certain circumstances, he would welcome it. He would use it to his advantage, let it give him the upper hand, and play with its very existence so that no judgements of him could be solidified or validated.

And then there was King. Painfully good natured in every aspect of his life with a sweet smile and the warmest aura Ram had ever encountered. He was inviting, —even in the eyes of someone as self sheltered as the perpetually silent, everlastingly intriguing junior that he'd so graciously dubbed "cool boy." At first, Ram wasn't sure what to make of the nickname, or even of King himself. A bit strange, he supposed, afraid of dogs (which Ram thought to be incredibly irrational at the start,) perhaps a bit too touchy (but never with malice intent,) and most of all, fixated on reaching a level of friendship between the two of them for reasons unknown not just to the younger of the duo, —but to King himself as well.

Even after hours upon hours of careful contemplation, so much so that the time had probably piled up into a few days when added all together, King wasn't sure why he felt such an undying urge to get to know Ram. In the end, he chalked it up to a simple interest in something that obviously wasn't easy to study, but something in the back of his mind told King, in no uncertain terms, —that there was more at play from the very first time their hands brushed against one another's while they were walking side by side. The graze of supple skin set something inside of King into a frenzy of static; something akin to a comforting vibration that he was both confused and enlightened by. Ram, ever the picture perfect representation of stoicism, hadn't even flinched at the skimming of their respective flesh, —but he'd felt it too. Maybe not in sync, maybe not to the same level of intensity, and maybe not even enough for him to realize it's affect. . . But he'd felt it.

King could recall being almost _afraid_ of the feeling. It was new to him, something that he had no experience with, and he wondered if it meant something far more than he could ever comprehend. He was an over thinker in that way, —always wondering if there was an underlying message behind someone's words, always wondering if he was meant to read between the lines of something. With Ram, the lines were blurry, and on top of it all they seemed to be written in an ancient language that he wasn't sure how to translate or decipher. But that didn't mean he wasn't willing to try. King wanted to understand Ram, —wanted to figure out what made him tick, what made him laugh, what made him happiest, saddest, angriest, and every last thing in between. And that, King had come to admit to himself, is where the line was crossed.

It wasn't simple curiosity on his part anymore. It just wasn't, and although it would have made his life so much simpler just to believe that his interest in the younger male stemmed from his inquisitive nature, —he knew himself better than that. Ram wasn't just another plant that King yearned to care for and watch grow right before his very eyes. . . It was more than that, and there was no feasible way for King to deny it. If that was the case, he wouldn't have felt his heart skip beats every time that Ram craned his neck and brought his face closer to check on King's stitches. He wouldn't have felt pooling warmth in the pit of his stomach each time that Ram's slender fingers wrapped around his slim wrist, his eyes begging King to stay without having to say such things out loud.

"I stayed," King mumbled to himself, the side of his head coming down to rest against the chilled glass of the window, ". . .every time."

 _Why_ he'd done so was a question all in itself, —one that King just wasn't ready to answer. He didn't really know why he'd done it, not just once, but time and time again.

Too far into his own thoughts to even acknowledge the muted sounds happening around him, King didn't notice when the shower was turned off, when Ram's careful footsteps could be heard in the bathroom as he dried himself off and got changed into a pair of loose basketball shorts and a tank top, —nor did he notice the bathroom door opening to reveal a freshly showered Ram with his damp bangs clinging to the skin of his forehead. Pausing just outside of the bathroom's doorway, Ram stared with that doe-eyed look, head tilted to the left as he admired King in all his glory. Even in the yellowy lighting of King's condo, pathetic as it was in comparison to natural light, Ram thought that King looked beautiful.

Was that the most traditional way of thinking about another man? Of course not, —but it was inherently _true_. King was all smooth skin, tinted a warm, tender beige, dark eyes that could almost be mistaken for black, strands of inky hair framing his charming face (whether messily or styled to the elder male's liking.) But really, in the grand scheme, King's looks were only a sliver of what made him so intrinsically beautiful. As cliche as it may have seemed to some, Ram knew, from the very bottom of his heart, that King's warm, open heart, sweet and inquisitive demeanor, and his undeniably lovable charm were the real show stoppers. His looks were just the neatly tied bow atop a meaningful gift purchased or made with great care and love.

"Oh," King finally looked over, "are you ready for bed? You can turn the lights off if you want, I'm getting tired anyway."

Ram nodded in reply, quickly tossing his used towel and dirty clothes into the laundry basket before making his way over to their bed. . . Well, King's bed. It wasn't Ram's, but they'd been sharing it for so long by that point that it almost felt like it was _theirs_ , and that fleeting thought made the younger male perhaps a bit _too_ comfortable. _King_ made him a bit too comfortable, if he was being honest.

With the lights off, the two of them lied in bed next to one another. Ram smelled of King's body wash, King's shampoo, King's conditioner. . . But somehow, the elder male couldn't help but to think that Ram was better suited to the scents than he could ever be.

"It's chilly tonight," King mumbled, moving closer to his junior so that Ram could share warmth, —share _comfort_.  
  
Ram said nothing of it, not that that was by any means out of the ordinary. Sometimes, his silence was unnerving, and it left room for King to overthink. Sometimes, it made the elder male wonder if he was doing something wrong. Other times, however, it was the most comforting thing in the world. With no other sounds to drown them out, King listened to Ram's steady breathing, listened to his beating heart, and keened the very moment that the younger boy's fingers ghosted across his hair, petting it ever so softly, -like a dog.  
  
There was so much to be had between them, so many things they could have said, but simply chose not to. Though it wasn't the way King ever thought his first genuine romantic interest would go, as the days passed them by, he became increasingly more thankful for the means by which everything splayed before him. He didn't have time to think about it, and perhaps that was for the best. King didn't have the time to try and halt his own feelings, didn't have the opportunity to try and stop his beating heart in its tracks and it thumped away, -just for Ram.  
  
"Goodnight," he whispered, to which the only response was a set of lithe fingers smoothing down the tender skin of his forearm.  
  
Because sometimes, silence isn't empty at all. . . It's full of answers.


End file.
